My friend Maria gave me a ride home from the doctors office. She told me that I was cute while stoned. I told her thanks and that no one had told me that before. She laughed and said that she was the only person who had ever seen me stoned. She was probably correct.
I made breakfast for Maria and myself while stoned. It was the least I could do for asking her to pick me up early on a Saturday morning. I did most of the prep before going to the doctors including putting muffin batter in a pan, and preheating the oven, and frying bacon. I can't remember what else we ate. There were eggs I think. I didn't prepare those in advance so I don't remember them. I hope it was good food. I don't remember.
My friend Chanelle came over for breakfast too. I didn't think I would be as stoned as I was and I had missed seeing her and Chanelle is always up at five, and she likes going places for breakfast.....so why not make a party of breakfast? I think it is a bad idea probably to entertain while stoned because my main memory of the event is that I was trying very hard to remember to introduce Chanelle and Maria and that then I was aware that they were introducing themselves to each other.
I think that the anesthesia was badly applied because I remember less and less from the day as it went on, when instead I should have been remembering more and more. I was a little sensible though, because after my friends left, I climbed into bed and slept. I woke up in the evening with a splitting headache and after a few hours went back to bed and slept through the night.
When I woke up the next morning, it felt like someone had put a hatchet into the middle of my skull. I drank a glass of water and ate some carbs thinking that maybe I had a headache from not eating. The headache got worse and worse and at some point, it occurred to me that I was fitting the description of a hang-over. I recalled that drinking lots of water was supposed to help with hang-over, so I drank lots of water. After a few hours it seemed to help some. I think I was still somewhat stoned though because I don't remember much of Sunday either.
By Monday, I was fit as a fiddle and even did step aerobics, though I took it a bit easy.
To me, it seems that there should be a moral to this story, like don't do drugs, or drink a lot after doing drugs, or something, but I don't think that they apply super well to the story because I was simply being medically responsible for myself. However, as I have never reacted like that to anesthesia before, the moral of the story may be that one should avoid medical procedures in Merced. I have five years until I have to get anesthetized again. My goal is to be in a medically developed place before that becomes necessary. The clock is now ticking.